not yet
by lusterrdust
Summary: "Now isn't the right time. Not yet." - [4x12, stydia]


_4x12_

_One. Two. Three._

Lydia breathed deeply, inhaling with eyes closed, and exhaling with eyes closed. Hours earlier she had received a text from Scott making sure she was okay, and a phone call from Liam. No one else had texted her, no one else had called her.

Not Stiles.

With a shaky breath, she inhaled. _Exhaled_.

When she opened her eyes she focused on the noises around her, and was thankful there weren't any voices in her head for the moment. She sat cross legged on the gym floor of the High School, continuing her training. For the better part of three weeks, Lydia would try to find time to isolate herself (_as if she didn't feel it enough_) from the world around her and try to figure out a way to hone her abilities.

Deaton had recommended it, and she wasn't really sure what he thought was going to happen because she had no idea what she was doing at first. But after a while, it became more and more necessary for her sanity. A time in the dead of night where she was away from everyone and solely focused on her power.

The light of her phone on the bleachers caught her attention and she stood up and walked toward it, assuming it was the alarm she set for when her ninety minutes were up. However, when she picked up her phone, Stiles' name flashed on the screen with his image in the display. Biting her lip, she debated on answering, wanting desperately to hear his voice but also still peeved that after the entire situation he hadn't checked up on her sooner.

With furrowed brows and a hollowness in her chest, she set her phone back on the bench and made her way back to the middle of the gym once more to sit and focus. The light of her phone lit again and she forced herself to ignore not only the person calling, but the sudden sting of tears in her eyes.

Lydia huffed angrily and clenched them shut. She had done enough crying in the past year to last her a lifetime and she was sick of being the weak one in the pack. Which brought her thoughts to the reason she was _here_, sitting and _focusing_. Focus, Lydia, focus!

She wouldn't let a mere boy cause her to feel this way.

_Too bad he's not just a mere boy,_ her mind taunted. With a frustrated sigh, Lydia stood up and began to pace before sitting down once more. If anyone had been watching they would've thought she looked like a lunatic, grumbling, sighing and moving around like she was scatterbrained.

One. Two. Three.

One. Two. Three.

"Lydia!"

With a jump, Lydia gasped and opened her eyes as someone burst through the doors. It was dark, but once Lydia had recognized the face of her intruder, she released an irritated breath, though her heart began hammering in her chest and she was discretely looking for any signs of him being hurt. "What are you doing here, Stiles?" She asked while getting up and wiping nonexistent dust off her skirt.

Stiles jogged over to her with narrowed eyes. "Uh, I should be asking you that. Why are you in here? In a dark gym, completely alone?" When he stood directly in front of her, she looked up into his whiskey colored eyes and was winded by the sincere concern in them. It had been a while since he looked at her that way, and she tried to force her throat to ease up after it had closed up on her.

Lydia shrugged before crossing her arms in front of her chest. "How did you know where I was?"

Stiles gave her a weird look that came off as suspicious. "After I tried calling you about _fifty_ times with no response, I called Scott and he said Deaton mentioned a while back that you came here at nights."

Lydia pursed her lips at the thought of the older man giving her personal information to Scott after she specifically told him that she didn't want the others to know. What if they found out she was driving herself mad with insecurities on her power? "Okay. That doesn't explain why you're here now?"

She had tried to sound biting, but was embarrassed at how small her voice came out instead. Stiles jerked his head and brought his hands up to his chest. "I came because I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Sharp was his tone, but Lydia detected the small bit of hurt in it and looked down in shame. Was there ever going to be a time where she didn't hurt him? _But he hurt you, too._ The voice retaliated. Squaring her shoulders, she gave him a blank look and answered, "Thanks, I'm fine."

"Okay, you and I both know your facades have never worked on me, Lyds." Stiles bit back, getting frustrated at her cold demeanor. Their relationship, friendship -whatever it was,- had evolved so much in the last year, and he wasn't about to let her attitude get to him. "What's going on? Really?"

Shaking her head, Lydia released an incredulous breath and hurriedly made her way to her things. The feeling of running away was prominent in this moment. The feelings she had for the man in front of her was suffocating her senses and she couldn't help but be reminded why there was no way for her to fix it.

Malia.

"The fact that you even have to ask that question is why I don't need to tell you anything, Stiles." Okay, yeah she was letting her emotions get the best of her but she couldn't help it. The past forty eight hours she had been in a panic, worried sick over her friends._ Over him_. The fact that he hadn't responded to the texts ad calls she sent earlier in the day when they'd arrived back at Beacon Hills had hurt her more than she'd expected. Especially when she had seen Malia and the Sheriff eating at the pizzeria like everything was fine and dandy. Like how she had shown up at the station later that evening to give the Bestiary to Parrish only to find out that Stiles had been there and hadn't even asked about her.

"Hey, whoa! Lydia, what the hell?" He exclaimed at the sound of her bitter tone and her glistening eyes. Stiles was at a complete loss at what he'd done but he wanted to know what it was so he could fix it. He grabbed her shoulders and stopped her angry strides, gently forcing her to face him.

Wide green eyes stared back at him, completely full of emotion. Hurt, sadness, and everything else that made his heart clench painfully in his chest. She might be the most beautiful crier, but he hated the fact she was obviously hurting. "Lydia, please talk to me."

_One. Two. Three. _

_Deep breath_. Her voice shook when she spoke. "I was so worried. About everyone. Scott and Kira... you."

Stiles eyes roamed her face as what she told him reached his ears. She was biting her lip while she took breaks in her speech, a habit he'd adored. "...When your dad said you guys were safe and in town, I waited. But nobody called..."

_Oh_. Stiles swallowed against the tightness in his throat guiltily.

"Liam was the only one to call me. To fill me in on what happened. Scott texted me, telling me about the pack meeting tomorrow..." Lydia sniffed, feeling the familiar feeling of being forgotten rise in her chest. "You- ... I thought you would call."

Stiles dropped his head to his chest, feeling like the biggest jerk. He would like to have said that he had meant to call and just forgotten with all the craziness, but he knew that wasn't true. He had been wrapped up in his reunion with Scott, his time with Malia and his dad that Lydia hadn't crossed his mind until later that night when he'd seen her messages on his phone. He lifted his gaze back up when he heard her sniff. "Lydia, I'm so-"

"Don't." She interrupted, giving him a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes. Seeing Stiles like this made her think. It wasn't like _she_ was his girlfriend. He had long since gotten over his obsession with her ever since Malia came into the picture and that was okay because Malia was good. It needed to be okay. He deserved better than the pain she'd been causing him since third grade. Perhaps this was the world's way of balancing out the justice. "It's my fault for expecting more. And I really mean it... I shouldn't have snapped at you. I'm sorry."

Stiles' brows knotted together in response to what he'd just heard. She may have been apologizing but why did it feel like she was saying goodbye? "No. No, it's not okay, Lydia. I was a bad friend toward you today. I was worried sick yesterday while you were here, thinking something horrible had happened to you, but I left anyway. A year ago I would've fought to get you."

Lydia smiled wryly, looking down at her pumps. "A year ago you were in love with me. Now you have Malia. You had Scott in danger, there were more important things than me that you needed to think about yesterday, Stiles. It was selfish of me to think I'd be your top priority." She chuckled, trying to lighten the tension that had built up between the two of them. "Please, let's just forget this. It's late and we have a test in Chemistry tomorrow."

Stiles didn't move. He continued to look at the strawberry blonde in front of him and wondered why when she had finished speaking he felt sick with guilt. He was a passionate guy, he had always prided himself on that. Why did it hurt him when she insinuated she wasn't important? So why, given his actions as of late, did he feel this way when what she had confessed was true? "A year ago I loved you."

Lydia blinked back the tears. _Loved_. Oh, the irony. Here she was in love with the man that had devoted himself the past eight years to her only to move on when she grew feelings for him. She wondered if there was a worse feeling than what she was experiencing now. Probably not.

Nodding, she tried to smile. Tried to fight the constriction in her chest. "Yeah."

Stiles reached up and wiped a tear that fell from her eye, a rush of emotions he couldn't name overwhelming him. She looked heartbroken, and he dared to wonder if it was because of him. Did Lydia have feelings for him? Did he dare wonder?

Lydia reached her hand up to her cheek, embarrassed that a tear had betrayed her and escaped. Her face was beginning to heat up and she wondered if he could tell she was blushing with the only light being the moon's glow beaming through the windows. She licked her lips, feeling the butterflies in her stomach rage as his eyes followed the movement. They lingered there and she called out his name, sounding breathless. "Stiles?"

He didn't respond but only began to graze his thumb along her cheek as it was still palming her face. Those honey colored eyes she loved so much were flickering wildly across her face and before she knew it they were leaning closer until the heat of his breath danced over her lips. Her eyes shut of their own accord and she felt herself being drawn toward him.

\- the sound of her phone's alarm caused them both to jump apart and she rushed to turn it off. _Oh god, what was she doing?_ Malia was her friend. Okay, not really but she didn't exactly _dislike_ the werecoyote. This was **not** Lydia. She was not that girl. Maybe once she had been, but not anymore.

"W-what-"

"Don't, Stiles, don't." She interrupted, feeling her nerves being wrecked. "We shouldn't have done that."

"Lydia." His voice sounded pleading and she blinked rapidly, trying to calm herself down. Grabbing her things, she began to walk toward the exit.

"Lydia, stop!" Stiles grabbed her arm again and ran to block her hasty attempt to escape. "What was that?" He demanded, needing to know. He _needed_ to know.

She wanted to say nothing. She wanted to flip her hair and tell him to forget it all ever happened. She wanted to revert to when she blocked people out because then she couldn't get hurt; but that wasn't her anymore. So instead she looked up at him and grabbed his hands. "It was me being selfish."

"W-ha?" Stiles shook his head. So he wasn't imagining it. Lydia wanted him to kiss her and... he had wanted to kiss her, too.

"It was me pretending that you still loved me because- because I..." She bit her lip roughly, hoping to draw blood and cause herself pain because that's what she deserved.

"Because why?" He asked, squeezing her hands in his own and searching for the answer he was still unsure he wanted to hear. Lydia shook her head frantically, knowing she couldn't finish the answer. If she was going to profess her love, it was not going to be this way. Not to someone who was with someone else. "Lydia, _why_?"

She pressed her lips together, feeling the lipstick grains rub at the action. "...Malia... Stiles, I can't. Please."

Stiles released her hands with a heavy sigh before running them over his face and over his head in frustration. Malia. How could he forget his girlfriend? How had he almost just completely kissed another girl? He was the world's worst boyfriend. But _It's not just another girl,_ his head told him. It's Lydia.

"I'm sorry," Lydia apologized sincerely, breaking the few minutes of silence before hesitantly reaching out to rub his forearm and giving a small smile . Her voice was raw with emotion and Stiles pushed down any hope he had felt, knowing this wasn't right. Not how it almost had happened, no. Now was not the time. They both knew it. So with a heavy heart and a curve of his lips that didn't reflect the disappointment in his eyes, he placed his hand at the small of her back and began to walk them toward the exit.

Now was not the right time. Not yet.


End file.
